46. Intervention


    [Designation: HIS SISTER’S KEEPER]


    [Realm of Origin: NARAKA]


    [Trinket Description: When the whole world turns to dust, all we’ll have left are memories of each other. While the trinket is equipped, the wearer is protected by brotherly compassion, thereby significantly reducing [Ossify] build-up rate and lighting the way through shrouds of bone dust.]


    ***


    With a large swath of the Badlands cleared of dust-storm, the Wayfarers decided to give vehicular transport another try. This time, they put in the additional effort to assist their living castle with its navigational duty.


    Presently, Serac served as Ash’s ‘eyes’, having climbed atop the battlement to get a 360-degree view of the road. As excited as she’d been about playing ‘navigator’, she did (reluctantly) suggest to Zacko that the two of them could take turns. Yet, despite her generosity, her companion claimed that he was perfectly happy to be the permanent ‘driver’—and therefore holed up inside the cabin for the whole ride.


    Your loss, Manusya man. Serac smiled to herself as she took in the sights, sounds, and smells of Naraka in its rawest and most open form.


    Red sky dotted with dark clouds that were more smog than nimbus. The gnashing of castle teeth against rocky, uneven terrain. And a faint yet ever-present musk of inflamed flesh—as if the very earth was an open sore that could never quite finish healing.


    On second thought, perhaps Zacko had the right idea about staying inside the cabin. But no, Serac wouldn’t let a little Naraka ugliness deter her enjoyment of finally holding Ashvanaga’s ‘reins’.


    Literally. For in her hands was a set of ropes that had been fed through to the cabin below. The right-sided rope connected to a rusted bell donated by the [Sanctuary] children, while the left tugged on a pair of Huskbound plates that produced a dull thunk whenever they came together.


    The concept was simple and, oddly enough, inspired by a torture device from Serac’s Damnatorium days.


    The Clockwork was a devilish contraption that forced a Penitent to participate in her own torture. Ropes were tied to both of her ears, to be pulled by a Jailer to indicate the direction where the inmate had to turn the spoke on a gear. The gear, of course, was connected to more instruments of pain and suffering: clockwise to tighten the barbed collar around the inmate’s neck, or counterclockwise to raise the needles at her feet. Relieve one source of pain, only to intensify another.


    Serac’s version was a much kinder and more practical mechanism, meant only to indicate the direction of travel. If the bell rang, the driver would turn the steering wheel clockwise. If the plates thunked, then counterclockwise. Sounding them together stood for stop or start. They’d even devised a system to express ‘degrees’, based on repetitions of the same signal.


    Thus, the steering wheel was finally allowed to serve a practical purpose. Not a mechanical one, of course, as it remained utterly disconnected from the castle’s inner workings. But it did effectively translate Serac’s intent into something Ash could respond to with some measure of accuracy and consistency.


    Through this multi-faceted teamwork, the Wayfarers and their Infernal Steed made short work of the Badlands, twisting and turning past numerous pitfalls with visually guided precision. They were also blessed by a relative paucity of Aberrant interference, encountering only a few groups of Flesh-fiends along the way.


    Whenever these critters did show up, Serac made sure to sound both the bell and the plates three times in quick succession—the signal for Zacko to drag his lazy ass outside and chuck a few [Javelins]. Because the man could certainly use the Karma, if not the exercise.


    By the time the red of day deepened into the maroon of night, the pair had covered a fair distance. They’d long left [the Sanctuary]’s dome behind, while ahead, they could now spy a pale-gray haze that could only signify the edge of Dashi’s dust-storm. Even farther beyond that, the stiletto-like peaks of the Bonespires loomed above the haze—a clear and ominous marker of the Wayfarers’ ultimate destination.


    This was where they decided to camp for the night. For as meticulous as Pathsight might be, there were certain ‘parameters’ it couldn’t faithfully reflect—parameters such as ‘fatigue’, ‘cabin fever’, and ‘not wanting to stare at the same scenery for like 24 hours straight’.


    Two brief debates ensued: one about the possibility of a Bhoota ambush, and another about the merits of dropping a Waystation here in the middle of nowhere. On the first count, they decided on shifts so one could relax while the other kept watch. On the second, they agreed to hold off for now, wary as they were about the potential challenges that awaited closer to the storm.


    Zacko volunteered to take first watch, repaying Serac’s earlier ‘generosity’. The latter gladly settled herself under a patchwork blanket made from cut-up (and washed!) Penitent’s rags—another gift from the good people of First Hope.


    As soon as she did, however, the heavy thoughts she’d shoved aside during the daytime resurfaced, instantly knocking off any hope for sleep. She ruminated alone for some time, before poking first her horns then her whole face out of the blanket.


    Their ‘camp’ consisted of a full-sized Ash acting as a physical barrier and [His Sister’s Keeper]—the ‘Trinket’ one of the Bone Maidens had apparently dropped—providing a source of light and magical protection. As night fell, the bloodstone cameo gave off a stronger ‘glow’. Even now, the back of Zacko’s muscular frame was cast in this faint, pale-blue light, which wasn’t unlike the color of Dashi’s lantern.


    “Do you think we did the right thing?” Serac spoke at Zacko’s back. The Manusya didn’t move, sitting cross-legged while gazing into the night.


    “About?” he asked, even though they both knew.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    “About leaving the children in [the Sanctuary]?” Serac clarified, even though they both knew. “There was… no other choice, right?”


    “What else could we have done?” Zacko said, as much to himself as to Serac. “Ferry them to First Hope? Only a temporary solution, and one that would’ve put the Hopers in danger. Try to find their homes in the Reticence Fields? We’d be going there blind, not to mention we don’t even know if such ‘homes’ still exist. No, the best thing was to leave them there where they’re safe from the Aberrants and from any more storms that might kick up. Now, we just have to hurry and deal with this Bone Lord asshole, before…”


    Zacko trailed off, but Serac could’ve easily finished his sentence. Before another innocent soul is sacrificed to the Bone Lord’s ‘greater plan’.


    “I suppose you’re right,” Serac agreed, as much for her own benefit as Zacko’s. “But… listen, I’ve been thinking. I obviously want to smite this Bone Lord as much as the next Wayfarer, but I think… rushing to him is the wrong way to go about it.”


    At this, Zacko looked over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised.


    “Why’s that?”


    “Well, partly because we kind of suck… as demonstrated by the Maiden pair that just kicked our asses,” Serac told it like it was. “But also because of that thing Trippy said about the Karmic Benchmark. You know, about how we need to—”


    “Reach a certain Karmic Level to be eligible for ascension. Yeah, yeah. You don’t need to remind me. I already knew this stuff from Manesfera.”


    Serac pursed her lips. Frustration was brewing in the Wayfarer camp, and both were dealing with it in their own ways—Serac by putting it out in the open, and Zacko by hiding behind his tough-guy exterior.


    It was back when they’d been waiting for their first Hanuman fight that Trippy had briefed the Wayfarers on the concept of the Karmic Benchmark. Every transition from one Realm to the next served as a ‘gate’, one that required two separate ‘keys’ to unlock: 1) a Mandate from the reigning Realm Immortal, either granted or taken by force, and 2) achieving a Karmic Level that was considered commensurate with the challenges on offer in each Realm.


    For the jump from Naraka to Pretjord, that benchmark had been set at KL-30. No one could tell Serac how Pathsight had decided on that number, but it was not for a Wayfarer to question the Path—only to follow it. The benchmark went up by a rather arbitrary-sounding 30 levels with each subsequent ascension, up to the requirement of KL-150 to go from Suradao to Devalem.


    Which… also meant that Zacarias Borges-Juventus, as a Wayfarer who’d started his journey in Manesfera, would’ve needed a whopping KL-120 if he’d hoped to ascend via the ‘normal’ route. It was, perhaps, a blessing in disguise that he’d knocked himself all the way down to Naraka, where he’d be allowed to trace a ‘smoother’ progression curve.


    Yet, all that would be moot if he kept digging himself deeper into debt. Even more so, if he weren’t willing to set aside his pride and face his ‘leveler’s block’ head-on. Before he could even think about reaching KL-30, he first needed to get over this hump between KL-16 and KL-17.


    “This is an intervention,” Serac eventually announced, sitting up from her blanket. “I care about you, both as a friend and as a Wayfaring partner, and I hate to see you blustering your way through this thing like you don’t have a real problem. What you need is a concrete plan to rehabilitate your Karma. You keep giving me advice about how to ‘farm’ and level, but whenever we try to talk about you, you clam up. It’s almost like… you’re afraid. That’s it. You’re afraid of leveling—or, at the very least, you’re afraid of where that leveling might take you.”


    “Pfft,” Zacko blustered, eyebrows more elevated and contorted than ever. “Me? Afraid? Please, when have I ever been afraid of anything?”


    “When we fought those Bhootas, for a start.”


    “Okay, I walked right into that one. But a man’s allowed a phobia or two, isn’t he? So I don’t play well with ghosts. That doesn’t mean I’m not eager to farm a Maiden or a Lord—and maybe even save a whole sorry-ass Realm while I’m at it.”


    “So we beat the Maidens, we beat the Bone Lord, and maybe we even save all of Naraka while we’re at it. What then? How many thousands of negative Karma are you willing to go to? And will you finally start leveling like a proper Wayfarer then? After you’ve already rid the Realm of its Immortal tyrant and who knows what other challenges besides?”


    Zacko turned away. When he spoke again, his voice had flattened as much as his eyebrows.


    “Don’t count your Karma before you smite, Serac. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that? All I know is I’m willing to do whatever it takes to rid this Realm of the Bone Lord—to set Dashi free. What happens after that, well… I haven’t thought that far ahead.”


    Serac let out a sigh she’d been holding in ever since she’d met this frustrating specimen of a man.


    “The Bhootas aren’t the only kind of ghosts you’re afraid of, are they?”


    “Excuse me?”


    “What did you see in the Hanging Fruit, Zacko? What is this object of your greatest desire that you left behind in Manesfera? That you’re so desperate to return to, yet so afraid of at the same time?”


    Silence. Sullen and not at all companionable.


    “Was it wine? Women? A woman?”


    “Careful,” Zacko warned in a low growl. Serac ignored the warning.


    “Whatever it is, man, I need you to deal with it and get your act together. I’m telling you right now. If we smite the Bone Lord and you’re still stuck on KL-16 then, I’m not waiting for you just so we could ascend together. It’s been nice partnering with you and all, and gods know you’ve pulled me through some tight spots. But the moment you start holding me back, I’ll have no choice but to—”


    “That’s fine by me, sweetcheeks,” Zacko cut in, lips curled in a sardonic smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s what this ‘partnership’ was from the start. You scratch my back, I scratch yours, but if my arms aren’t long enough to reach it, then what good am I to you? Spoken like a true Wayfarer, Serac Edin. I see that robot voice of yours taught you well.”


    “I—” Serac began, then realized she didn’t know how to finish her own sentence. Her heart pounded hard and fast, for reasons that weren’t entirely clear. In the end, she let out another bracing sigh before adding, “All I’m saying is please remember what you yourself said to me, back when we first shook on our partnership. Because I still remember. The only way I can get back what I lost is by becoming more powerful than the assholes who took it from me in the first place. Whatever—or whoever—is waiting for you in Manesfera… I think you owe it to them to stick to your chosen Path.”


    Serac dropped to the ground and buried herself inside her blanket. Her heart kept its unnatural pace, and her skin felt uncomfortably warm and itchy. She didn’t think she’d said anything uncalled for, and yet, she regretted staging this ‘intervention’ at all.


    Several more seconds passed in silence, one in which Serac’s pulse refused to settle and sleep continued to be a non-starter. Then, there was a sigh from the other side of her blanket, even louder and heavier than hers.


    “You just try and get some shuteye, Serac,” Zacko said, his voice having shed all its thorns. “Let me worry about me. I know it. I know I have some… soul-searching to do.”


    She tried to follow his advice, but to no avail. After some time, she lowered the blanket to steal another peek.


    Zacko had his back turned to her again, but he was no longer gazing into the night. Instead, his eyes were pointed downwards, at an object that dangled from his waist. It was a Buddha mask, with its immutable laughter etched and shadowed by the pale-blue light of a bloodstone cameo.